


Played

by Augustus



Category: Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-10-26
Updated: 2002-10-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick finds a way to get to Justin</p>
            </blockquote>





	Played

"So, remind me." Nick leans forward, lashes flickering with the weight of his smirk. "How long did it take you to talk Britney into blowing you? A year? Two? Half a fucking lifetime?"

"Very funny, Carter," Justin snarls, hands clenching into mottled fists. "When your solo career flops, perhaps you could try being a comedian."

"Sensitive much?" Nick laughs, eyes watchful, before lowering his tone to a insidious whisper. "Want to hear how long it took me?"

Justin glares his rebuttal.

"Twenty minutes." Arms folded across his chest, Nick forms the perfect image of the stereotypical victor, lips twisted into a cold smile of accomplishment. "And unlike some people in this room, I didn't have to beg. It wasn't even my idea. Hell, I'm an old-fashioned guy. I'd prefer to wait until I was in my own bedroom, rather than crunched up in the backseat of some hired limousine..."

A slight twitch of Justin's lips becomes his only acknowledgment of Nick's words. Eyes lowered, the rise and fall of his chest is magnified by his static silence.

"She's getting a bit of a reputation, your ex," Nick continues, his own gaze firmly centred on Justin's face. "First that dancer of hers, then Wade... and now she's all over your biggest pop rival." The murmur of his voice sinks, heavy, between them. "That's gotta hurt."

"Perhaps. If I believed you." The strength of Justin's words is compromised by the sloping set of his shoulders, a twitching vein marring the stoic pallor of his neck. "Pity you're so damn see-through, Carter."

"You believe me." Nick's arms untangle and fall smoothly to his sides as he steps a little closer. "I can almost _smell_ the jealousy."

For the first time, Justin meets his eyes. "I think that's the stench of your cliches."

"Ooh, big word, Junior. You been practicing?"

"We can't all have the IQ of a two year old."

A slight flicker of annoyance mars the eloquence of Nick's rebuttal. "Fuck you, Timberlake."

The shift of power is all but tangible as Justin raises one, steady hand to finger the collar of Nick's shirt. "I thought you'd never offer." A quick, ambiguous smile and then he turns to poke at the decimated table of snacks behind him, a disdainful swing to the curve of his hips.

Nick blinks, lips parted by a wordless question. "You _what_?" he splutters finally, reaching out to turn Justin with the flat of one hand.

"Come on." Justin's mouth reshapes itself into a perfect echo of Nick's faded smirk as he lowers his forehead in order to watch Nick through his lashes. "Don't try to tell me you don't want it."

"You?"

"Who else?" Justin's hand rises again, fingers brushing briefly against Nick's neck before coming to rest, once again, in the fold of his collar, curling possessively around the fabric. "Not Britney, that's for sure. We both know what that was about."

"Yes? Fancy telling _me_?"

Offhand, Justin shrugs, a fluid, arrogant movement that reshapes the lines of his shirt. "Admit it; you've been lusting after my ass for years."

Nick's laugh is a fraction too raucous, his eyes unusually guarded. "Fuck off."

"Perhaps later." Stepping a fraction closer, Justin peers over Nick's shoulder, eyes flickering over the other guests in the room. "I'm not sure our esteemed peers would appreciate the floor show."

"I don't know." A smile tugs lightly at the corners of Nick's mouth. "I doubt AJ would turn you down..."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"So..." Nick leans forward, one foot sliding in between Justin's as his hand moves to rest lightly on the curve of his hip. "When _you_ were with Britney, did she do that thing with her tongue?"

Justin's smirk spreads. "Oh yeah."

"And that, uh, other thing? With, um, her other thing?"

"Of course." Justin covers Nick's hands with his own, fingers burrowing between fingers as he watches Nick through flirtatious lashes.

Nick bites his lower lip lightly, releasing it with a furtive sweep of his tongue. "We both know I'm making this up as I go along, don't we?"

"We do." Justin's teeth seem unnaturally bright in the harsh, fluorescent light. "But I thought I'd humour you for a while, seeing as you were making such an effort and all."

"I had you fooled at the start, though," Nick says confidently, thumb trailing softly over the coarse fabric of Justin's jeans.

"For a moment, perhaps," Justin admits, his eyes flickering closed for a second as Nick twists a little closer, lips parting for a thickly drawn breath.

" Pla-ayed!" Nick teases, syllables bent and elongated.

"Game's not over yet." Justin's hand presses a little more firmly into Nick's, the heat staggering his thoughts. The remaining distance between them is imploded, the press of thigh on thigh a subtle echo of shared air and too-close lips.

"People are watching." Nick's eyes remain focused on the shadow of Justin's lips.

"I know."

"We'll be in all the papers tomorrow."

Justin's tongue is warm and insidious, his lips distracted by the thick bend of Nick's neck. "I could use the publicity."

Smiling, Nick pushes Justin roughly against the table, his free hand catching and tangling within Justin's curls. "So could I," he whisperers, eyes stained and dark. "But I'm not in the mood for theatre."

"My hotel's less than a block away..." Justin's breath slides an invitation across Nick's skin, one arm looping possessively around his waist.

"Is that a proposition?"

"I can't let Britney have all the fun."

The air between them presses cool against their flesh as Nick steps backwards. They do not speak as they move through the clusters of guests, connected without contact. Outside, the fall breeze hints of warmth, the faded scent of rain hanging heavy in the air. The light of passing cars dapples the pavement, the pale of Justin's fingers exaggerated as they twist within Nick's. A slim cloud brushes cobwebs across the moon as their lips meet in a swollen prelude.

Victorious, Nick smiles.

**26th October 2002**


End file.
